‘What do the rooms look like through those openings?’

‘In this civilization,’ he continued, ‘its citizens were bound to acts of utmost savagery. Vast cities were constructed beneath the world’s surface. Each chamber, every building, assembled as the physical expression of the quality of absence. Solid rock matched by empty space. From these places, where they did not dwell, but simply gathered, they set out to achieve balance.’

It seemed he would not lead her through any of the doorways, so she fixed her attention instead on the images. ‘There are no faces.’

‘The opposite of identity, yes, Kettle.’

‘The bodies look strange.’

‘Physically unique. In some ways more primitive, but as a consequence less… specialized, and so less constrained. Profoundly long-lived, more so than any other species. Very difficult to kill, and, it must be said, they needed to be killed. Or so was the conclusion reached after any initial encounter with them. Most of the time. They did fashion the occasional alliance. With the Jaghut, for example. But that was yet another tactic aimed at reasserting balance, and it ultimately failed. As did this entire civilization.’

Kettle swung round to study that distant heap of… something. ‘Those are bodies, aren’t they?’

‘Bones. Scraps of clothing, the harnesses they wore.’

‘Who killed them?’

‘You had to understand, Kettle. The one within you must understand. My refutation of the Forkrul Assail belief in balance is absolute. It is not that I am blind to the way in which force is ever countered, the way in which the natural world strains towards balance. But in that striving I see no proof of a god’s power; I see no guiding hand behind such forces. And, even if one such existed, I see no obvious connection with the actions of a self-chosen people for whom chaos is the only rational response to order. Chaos needs no allies, for it dwells like a poison in every one of us. The only relevant struggle for balance I acknowledge is that within ourselves. Externalizing it presumes inner perfection, that the internal struggle is over, victory achieved.’

‘You killed them.’

‘These ones here, yes. As for the rest, no. I was too late arriving and my freedom too brief for that. In any case, but a few enclaves were left by that time. My draconic kin took care of that task, since no other entity possessed the necessary power. As I said, they were damned hard to kill.’

Kettle shrugged, and she heard him sigh.

‘There are places, lass, where Forkrul Assail remain. Imprisoned for the most part, but ever restless. Even more disturbing, in many of those places they are worshipped by misguided mortals.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘You have no idea, Kettle, of the extremity the Azath tower found itself in. To have chosen a soul such as yours… it was like reaching into the heart of the enemy camp. I wonder if, in its last moments, it knew regret. Misgivings. Mother knows, I do.’

‘What is this soul you are talking about?’

‘Perhaps it sought to use the soul’s power without fully awakening it. We will never know. But you are loose upon the world now. Shaped to fight as a soldier in the war against chaos. Can that fundamental conflict within you be reconciled? Your soul, lass? It is Forkrul Assail.’

‘So you have brought me home?’

His hand betrayed his sudden flinch. ‘You were also a mortal human child, once. And there is a mystery in that. Who birthed you? Who took away your life, and why? Was all this in preparation for your corpse to house the Assail soul? If that is the case, then the Azath tower was either deceived by someone capable of communicating with it, or it had in truth nothing at all to do with the creation of you as you now are. But that makes no sense – why would the Azath lie to me?’

‘It said you were dangerous.’

He was silent for some time. Then, ‘Ah, you are to kill me once I have vanquished the other entombed creatures.’

‘The tower is dead,” Kettle said. ‘I don’t have to do anything it told me. Do I?’ She looked up and found him studying her.

‘What path will you choose, child?’

She smiled. ‘Your path. Unless you’re bad. I’ll be very angry if you’re bad.’

‘I am pleased, Kettle. Best that you stay close to me, assuming we succeed in what we must do.’

‘I understand. You may have to destroy me.’

‘Yes. If I can.’

She gestured with her free hand at the heap of bones. ‘I don’t think you’ll have much trouble.’

‘Let us hope it doesn’t come to that. Let us hope the soul within you does not entirely awaken.’

‘It won’t. That’s why none of this matters.’

‘What makes you so certain, Kettle?’

‘The tower told me.’

‘It did? What did it say to you? Try to recall its exact words.’

‘It never spoke with words. It just showed me things. My body, all wrapped up. People were crying. But I could see through the gauze. I’d woken up. I was seeing everything with two sets of eyes. It was very strange. One set behind the wrappings, the other standing nearby.’

‘What else did Azath show you?’

‘Those eyes from the outside. There were five others. We were just standing in the street, watching the family carrying the body. My body. Six of us. We’d walked a long way, because of the dreams. We’d been in the city for weeks, waiting for the Azath to choose someone. But I wasn’t the same as the five others, though we were here for the same reason, and we’d travelled together. They were Nerek witches, and they’d prepared me. The me on the outside, not the me all wrapped up.’

‘The you on the outside, Kettle, were you a child?’

‘Oh no. I was tall. Not as tall as you. And I had to wear my hood up, so no-one could see how different I was. I’d come from very far away. I’d walked, when I was young, hot sands – the sands that covered the First Empire. Whatever that is.’

‘What did the Nerek witches call you? Had you a name?’

‘No.’

‘A title?’

She shrugged. ‘I’d forgotten all this. They called me the Nameless One. Is this important?’

‘I think it is, Kettle. Although I am not sure in what way. Much of this realm remains unknown to me. It was very young when I was imprisoned. You are certain this “Nameless One” was an actual title? Not just something the Nerek used because they didn’t know your true name?’

‘It was a title. They said I’d been prepared from birth. That I was a true child of Eres. And that I was the answer to the Seventh Closure, because I had the blood of kin. “The blood of kin.” What did they mean by that?’

‘When I am finally free,’ he said in a voice revealing strain, ‘I will be able to physically touch you, Kettle. My fingers upon your brow. And then I will have your answer.’

‘I guess this Eres was my real mother.’

‘Yes.’

‘And soon you will know who my father is.’

‘I will know his blood, yes. At the very least.’

‘I wonder if he’s still alive.’

‘Knowing how Eres plays the game, lass, he might not even be your father yet. She wanders time, Kettle, in a manner no-one else can even understand, much less emulate. And this is very much her world. She is the fire that never dies.’ He paused, then said, ‘She will choose – or has chosen – with great deliberation. Your father was, is, or will be someone of great importance.’

‘So how many souls are in me?’

‘Two, sharing the flesh and bone of a child corpse. Lass, we shall have to find a way to get you out of that body, eventually.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you deserve something better.’

‘I want to go back. Will you take me back now?’

‘I’ve given up on the eel itself,’ Bugg said, ladling out the soup. ‘It’s still too tough.’

‘None the less, my dear manservant, it smells wonderful.’

‘That would be the wine. Courtesy of Chief Investigator Rucket, whose request for a meeting with you was for purposes not entirely professional.’